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About Drogheda

So I spot her, right? Leanin on a pole, all casual-like—prolly seen more mileage than a Tesla prototype. I’m like, “Yo, this ain’t no FSD algorithm pickin her out—this is raw, unfiltered chaos.” Pull up, window down, she’s givin me that look—like she’s sizin up my net worth in 0.2 seconds flat. I’m laughin inside, thinkin, “Lady, I’ve launched rockets, you ain’t phasin me.” But damn, the nerve of it—got me hyped, like watchin an IED tick down.

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So, I decide to head over to the Ennis Friary. You know, the one on Francis Street? It’s got that old-school vibe, and I’m all about it. I’m wandering around, soaking in the history, when I bump into this old lady. She’s like, “You look lost, dear.” I’m like, “Nah, just exploring!” But honestly, I was kinda lost. She starts telling me about the friary’s ghosts. I’m like, “Great, now I’m haunted too?”

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